An Offer He Couldn't Refuse
by CharlotteAshmore
Summary: RCIJ gift for rumplesramen. Prompt: modern day gangster AU. On the day of his son's wedding, crime lord Lachlan Gold has to uphold tradition and grant requests to those brave enough to ask. His heart's desire, the lovely Belle French, turns the tables on him and gives him an offer he can't refuse :D


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything remotely related to Once Upon a Time or its characters or venues. If I did, our beloved Rumbelle would have more screen time! :D

 **Summary:** RCIJ gift for rumplesramen. Prompt: modern day gangster AU. On the day of his son's wedding, crime lord Lachlan Gold has to uphold tradition and grant requests to those brave enough to ask. His heart's desire, the lovely Belle French, turns the tables on him and gives him an offer he can't refuse :D

 **Tags:** *Rumpelstiltskin/Belle, *Baelfire|Neal, *Emma, *Jefferson, *Rumbelle Christmas in July, *Gift for rumplesramen on tumblr, *Fluff, *Smut, *A wee bit of angst, *Gangster AU, *Non-magic AU, *No curse

 **A/N:** This is my Rumbelle Christmas in July entry for my lovely giftee rumplesramen on tumblr. I couldn't get the opening scene from the Godfather out of my head when I read the prompt. I so hope you enjoy this :D It was so much fun being your santa!

 **An Offer He Couldn't Refuse**

By:

CharlotteAshmore

His smile was bittersweet as he stood at the french doors in his study, his gaze sweeping across his immense lawn littered with tables, a bandstand and a parquet dance floor. The warm spring breeze lifted the ends of his collar-length brown hair as he breathed in the scent of the flower arrangements which had been brought from the church to be used for the reception as well. The cacophony of laughing guests, indulging in the food and drink – which seemed to be never-ending due to his generosity – didn't seem to bother him on this day. No … his precious son, Neal had finally chosen his bride and married. At twenty eight, it was past time for him to do so.

Lachlan Gold had spared no expense to ensure his son had any and all lavish accoutrements to mark the occasion. Neal's station in life … in this town … demanded it. Gold sighed as he continued to watch the revelry. His father had sent him to Brooklyn to live with his two maiden aunts when he was a mere seven years old, Malcolm unable to care for him any longer. His mother had been gone for years, the truth of her passing never revealed to him. His life hadn't improved much, the streets of New York City not much better than Glasgow, but at least he had love. His aunts had doted on him. They'd operated a small shop out of their home … laundry, alterations, tailoring … and soon he'd forgotten what it was like to be hungry and cold.

Despite being poor, he flourished under their care. He excelled in his schooling and kept to himself, determined to make something of himself when it was finished. After school he worked for the local butcher, mostly using the hours until dark to make deliveries. That was how he'd met Milah. He'd made deliveries to her family's compound once a week. Her father had been one of the wealthiest men in Brooklyn, though his methods for gaining his wealth and prestige were somewhat questionable. He hadn't been too pleased when his daughter had become smitten with the delivery boy, believing she could do better.

Lachlan could clearly remember the day the man had hauled him inside, through the house and into his study. He'd been quaking with fear, holding his care worn cap tightly in his shaking fingers. Yet, instead of warning Lachlan away from his only daughter, Mr. Morganelli had offered him a job … one that would give him a chance of advancement and more money than he could have dreamed possible. Lachlan never asked questions and he did as he was told without fail. If he had to do things that made it difficult to sleep at night, so be it. If he had trouble looking at himself in the mirror … well, he'd never enjoyed his reflection all that much anyway.

He had been able to graduate at the top of his class and finance his way through Harvard Law. Mr. Morganelli had been more than pleased to advance him to the position of consiglieri. Lachlan and Milah had married three days after he'd acquired his law degree and her father had begun to groom him to take over the business when he retired. He and Milah had their own home within the compound and it didn't take him long to move his aunts into a modest split level house in a quiet neighborhood to enjoy their retirement. He hated lying to them about what he did for a living, but it was necessary.

Things had been good for a while between him and Milah, until her ailing father passed and he assumed the reins. He threw himself into the business, using his vast knowledge to succeed as he'd never dreamed possible. He was no longer the scrawny waif which had been thrust upon a boat for a new land, afraid of even his own shadow. No, he was a man to be feared. The happiest day of his life, was when Milah had given him Neal, but the birth of his beloved son only pushed him to work harder. His drive to succeed put a strain on his marriage until she couldn't bear to be in the same room with him. They were strangers to one another. He'd lost her.

It crushed him to know that it had been his fault. If he hadn't worked so hard to provide the life she was accustomed to, if he had been there for her, if he hadn't pushed her away … He refused to do the same with his son. He'd granted her the divorce she'd asked for, happily turned over the business and whatever else she wanted … and she allowed him to have his son. She'd grudgingly agreed. She hadn't been a bad wife, but mother material, she was not. Thankfully, he'd had enough foresight to keep his money separate from the business and she was unable to touch it.

Lachlan had taken his four year old son and left New York for somewhere he could give the child a relatively normal life. He wanted him to grow up in a quiet, peaceful setting where he could thrive. He wanted to know his son and show him nothing was more important in his life than the love of his child. He wouldn't make the same mistakes he'd made with Milah. He'd never thought he'd end up in the wilds of Maine, surrounded by forest and sea, but his child had never been happier. The town had been nothing but a bleak fishing village when he'd arrived and to look at it now, he couldn't help but feel a bit prideful.

It had been rather easy to buy up the limited real estate in the village, as well as the surrounding acreage. He'd brought in teams of construction crews and contractors and began building. Soon, word spread to his former colleagues and they in turn put him in contact with those willing to move to the newly named Storybrooke and set up shop. Once again, life was good and he was a man to be respected … and if not respected, then feared. He tried to keep his shadier business practices hidden from his son, hoping to be done with them forever once his boy was old enough to take the reins, but old habits died hard. Thankfully, the residents of Storybrooke knew the consequences of breaking a deal with him.

Lachlan pinched the bridge of his nose as he moved over to the great mahogany desk that sat center stage in the vast room, to pour himself a tumbler of scotch. He was happy that Neal had found love, his bride a lovely blonde, emerald eyed enchantress. Emma was witty, brave and didn't hesitate to put her father in law in his place. He admired her spunk, and as long as she made Neal happy, Lachlan was happy too. He'd given them a lovely little Cape Cod style house next to the beach for a wedding present. Emma hadn't been pleased. She'd claimed that they were more than capable of choosing their own home, but she'd given in eventually.

He didn't think on it too much. He had more pressing problems. One _very_ pressing problem in the form of her curvaceous, cerulean eyed, temptress of a best friend. Her name was Belle, and she would surely be the death of him. For more years than he could count, he'd had his business and his son to keep him from feeling the sting of loneliness. He simply hadn't had time to feel such emotions … until her. She'd come part and parcel with Emma. Daughter of the town florist, she lived in the tiny flat above the flower shop, Game of Thorns, which happened to be situated next to the brownstone where Emma lived with her parents. They'd been inseparable as children and well into high school and adulthood.

Lachlan had thought her a sweet, shy teenager when he'd first met her. Neal had introduced Emma and Belle to him during his junior year when the girl's had been freshmen. Belle had been quiet and reserved, a consummate student with her nose buried in a book ninety percent of the time, but the more time she spent at his home with Emma and Neal, the more she opened up to _him_. He'd indulged her questions and curiosity about the antiques in his home, the reasons he was considered the town monster – which she claimed was complete and utter rubbish – and her obvious fascination over his library.

Sometimes he thought she spent more time in his library than she did at home, but he didn't mind. She was witty and vivacious and she brought light into his life that he hadn't realized was missing. It was when he concluded he was beginning to have feelings for her that he knew he was in trouble. Belle was seventeen and graduating when the realization struck him, she would never return his feelings. She had her whole life ahead of her and four years of college to look forward to with Neal and Emma at NYU. Neal had insisted on taking two years off from his education so he could wait for Emma to join him, and it gave him a chance to learn some of his father's businesses as well as spend time with him before he left Storybrooke. He'd had Dove drive them all down to the university and said goodbye, feeling the loneliness creep into his soul, but he wouldn't stand in the way of his son's dreams and he wasn't so selfish that he would profess his love for Belle and ask her to stay. He'd returned to Storybrooke, having to content himself with weekend visits and holidays and life went on.

Lachlan had been devastated when Neal and Emma had returned home – newly graduated from NYU, and both with their MBA's – without Belle. He couldn't even bring himself to ask why she hadn't returned to Storybrooke. She'd no doubt found her happiness and embarked upon her new life … without him. He wouldn't even allow Neal and Emma to bring her up in conversation, quickly changing the subject every time. He couldn't bear to hear of his little dearie moving on.

He sank down into the plush leather desk chair and rubbed at the pain in his left temple. And now she was back. She'd breezed back into town a month ago and immediately petitioned the city council to reopen the library which had been closed well before he'd bought up the town. He hadn't found it necessary to open it with such a small population and when the town had grown, well … it had simply slipped his mind. The high school had an adequate library after all. She'd charmed the mayor and the city council into granting her request and immediately moved into the flat beneath the clock tower. Sometimes he would see her from the window of the pawn shop – his hobby – as she worked across the street to get everything ready for the grand reopening, and he had to fight down the feelings she'd reawakened within him.

Belle would never want him, would never love him as he did her. She was young and had a bright future ahead of her. She wouldn't want to tie herself to a middle aged man past his prime. He hid from her, just to make sure he wouldn't be tempted by her. He even absented himself from the house when she and Emma would meet Neal to discuss preparations for the wedding. But he hadn't been able to beg off on the rehearsal dinner the previous evening and banging his head on the desk would have been less painful.

She'd changed so much in the last nine years, the youthful angel having blossomed into an ageless beauty. He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms and promise her the moon if she'd just consent to be his. He was pathetic, he thought bitterly. She'd made a beeline straight for him, clasping his hands in hers as she kissed his cheek in greeting and he'd thought he'd died and gone to heaven. She'd then proceeded to scold him for not making time to see her since she'd been back and he'd had no ready excuse for her. Instead, he'd lamely told her he'd been busy. He hadn't known what to think of the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

His eyes flickered back to the open french doors where he could see the wedding party and the guests mingling and having a grand old time while he was once again putting business first, cooped up in his study. His body tightened and thrummed briefly with desire as she twirled past his view, her curves elegantly displayed in the form fitting bridesmaid dress she wore. It should be his arms she was dancing in instead of the lummox who was no doubt squashing her delicate toes.

The knock on his study door was a welcome reprieve from his tortured thoughts. "Come!"

Jefferson Madden, his one true friend in the entire town, and his most trusted associate, stuck his head through the opening. "Lach! What are you still doing in here?"

Lachlan rolled his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair as he held up his drink. "Care to join me?" he asked, instead of explaining himself.

Jefferson closed the door behind him and shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he approached the desk and took a seat in one of the chairs. "Sure. Now, considering your appointments have been concluded for the day – save one – why aren't you out there mingling with your guests?"

Lachlan eyed Jefferson suspiciously, taking note of his heightened color. Jefferson's ears always turned beat red when he was withholding information. "What do you mean – save one? You told me Marco D'Angelo was the last."

"I know, and actually I'm surprised more of your associates didn't ask for a favor of you today, being you're following this silly tradition," Jefferson shrugged, taking the tumbler of scotch from his boss and sitting back in his chair. "It was a last minute request."

"Who?"

"I was asked not to say."

"Jefferson," Lachlan growled, his eyes narrowing on the man.

Jefferson tossed his drink back and grinned unrepentantly. He was also one of the few who could get away with such a gesture without having his kneecaps broken or finding himself evicted … or both. "The happy couple made me promise," he said, raising his hands in a helpless manner. "Who am I to go against their wishes on their wedding day? In the meantime, why don't we have a walk around the grounds and perhaps a piece of cake?"

X*X*X*X*X

Belle flopped down tiredly beside Emma's only other bridesmaid, Ruby, and pulled off her left shoe, rubbing at her aching toes. "Remind me to never dance with Gabriel Gaston again. Actually, it would be better to avoid all social gatherings where he's even in attendance. Ugh!"

Ruby handed her a flute of champagne and arched a brow. "He's not that bad," she said, her eyes raking over the lummox in question with an appraising stare. "He's kinda cute."

Belle shook her head at her friend. Ruby was always on the prowl for a new toy and if she wanted Gabriel, she was welcome to him. "He's all yours, dearie," she snarked dryly, sipping delicately at the bubbly wine in her glass.

"Do you have to call me that? You sound like _him_ ," the tall brunette said, wrinkling her nose.

"I don't know what you mean," Belle blushed prettily. Her fascination with Lachlan Gold was no secret to her friends, but whereas Emma encouraged her to stand up and take what she wanted, Ruby thought she should run as far and as fast as she possibly could.

She'd tried to bury her feelings for Neal's father. He was older and worldlier than anyone else she knew, which had only fueled her infatuation. She'd been a young, impressionable teen when she'd met him and that surely hadn't helped. There was just something about him that touched her soul, something she hadn't been able to find with anyone else. She loved him … truly and deeply. He was everything she'd ever wanted, but how could he ever see her as anything more than his son's friend, a trifling little girl? She had tried so hard to forget him when she'd left Storybrooke, but there was no way to deny what was in her heart. No matter how far apart they were, he was still with her … always with her. Seeing him for the first time since she'd been back had nearly floored her, and it had taken every ounce of bravery she'd possessed to greet him at the rehearsal dinner. But she knew now, without a doubt that she couldn't continue to hide her feelings for him.

"Did you talk to Jefferson?" Ruby asked, signaling the waiter to bring another round of champagne. "Is he going to get you in?"

Belle clamped down on her lower lip nervously and nodded. "Yeah, Neal made sure he'd get me in to see Lachlan _and_ he promised to keep it a secret. I'm terrified, Rubes. What if he rejects me? He hardly said two words to me last night."

"He's not going to reject you," Neal said as he and Emma came to stand behind her chair. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet! You two have been running from one another long enough."

"Neal, don't be an ass," Emma scolded her new husband, taking the seat to Belle's left. "Are you ok? You look a little off."

Belle took a deep breath and smiled for her friends. "I'm fine … everything's fine."

Ruby took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "No matter what happens, Belles, just remember –"

"- we're here for you," Emma finished. "You've always been our rock and we'll be here to pick up the pieces if Gold proves to be stubborn or –"

"- stupid," Neal finished for her. The girls looked up at him and smirked. "What? I know how stubborn my papa can be." He patted Belle on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Belle, he's not going to reject you. He cares for you. Anyone with eyes can see it."

Belle inhaled deeply and pasted a brave smile on her lips, refusing to give in to the fear twisting her stomach in knots. She was rather relieved with the newlyweds left her to cut the cake at the insistence of their wedding coordinator and Ruby grabbed her iPhone to follow and snap some pictures for the scrapbook she was making. Her eyes followed Lachlan as he and Jefferson made their way from the house to the pavilion where the five tiered wedding cake had been set up on a table decorated with crystal swans. She should be with them, but her nervousness made her keep her distance.

She wanted so much to believe that Lachlan returned her feelings, but she had little hope. She'd loved him since she was fifteen years old and he'd never once given her a sign that he cared for her as well. Could it be she had been wrong? Refusing to see something that had been there all along? Perhaps she'd been so convinced he'd never want someone like her that she'd missed it. Damnit! She drained her champagne flute and smacked it down on the table a little more forcefully than she'd intended. Her wait would soon be over, she thought, gathering her courage as her eyes followed the man she loved as he grudgingly mingled with his guests. Soon she would know if he wanted her as much as she did him … and if he did … well, she'd be damned if she let him slip through her fingers.

X*X*X*X*X

Lachlan sat back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, a tumbler of scotch his only company. He couldn't help but smile as he thought of Neal and Emma setting off for their honeymoon. It had been one last gift to them today … two weeks at the most exclusive resort in Oahu. For once Emma hadn't balked at what she referred to as a 'frivolous waste of money'. In his opinion, if it brought his son happiness – and by extension, his new wife's – he wouldn't call if frivolous. His eyes flickered over to the view from the open french doors to see the party still in full swing even though the newlyweds had departed. He wondered if Belle were still out there dancing and mingling with the rest of the guests. He wondered if she'd dance with him if he asked.

He took a long swallow of his scotch and sighed. He was getting more than a bit melancholic, knowing how quiet the house would be with Neal gone. It wouldn't do well to think of Belle now. Of how nice it would be to have her installed in his home, how nice it would be to call her his own. He cursed softly and rested his elbow on the desk, dropping his head into his hand. He'd made the life he had to make Neal happy, to give him everything he hadn't had as a boy. He didn't regret it for a moment, but it didn't make him any less lonely.

Lachlan finished off his drink and poured himself another, impatience weighing heavily upon him. Jefferson had sent him back to his study, assuring him the last of his appointments would make an appearance shortly. He could only wonder who might be desperate enough to seek his aid, knowing he couldn't refuse on the day of his son's wedding … and what they might want. Most likely, it would be money. They always wanted money. He glanced about the room, illuminated only by the single lamp on the desk and the softly crackling fire in the small hearth. His solitude was peaceful despite the muted sounds from the grounds.

A soft knock at the door and Jefferson poked his head inside. "Lach? Your last appointment is here," he said.

Lachlan narrowed his eyes on his friend, suspicious of the cat-ate-the-canary grin on the man's face. That never boded well. He straightened in his chair and turned to face to door, gesturing the man forward. "Send them in."

The light in the hall illuminated her silhouette and he knew it was a woman by the soft curves of her outline. He couldn't tell anything more about her until she stepped into the light. It wasn't often a woman would seek a deal with him, and he found himself intrigued. His heart hammered violently in his chest and his lips parted on a sharp intake of breath when she spoke.

"Hello, Lachlan," she said softly as she moved into the light.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair; the vision before him could easily have stepped out of one of his fantasies. The long formal off the shoulder bridesmaid dress she wore with its plunging neckline and long fitted sleeves hugged her curves before flaring slightly at the waist, and the long gauzy skirt covered what he knew to be long shapely legs, her feet encased in the tall heels she favored. The color nearly matched her entrancing eyes. His gaze traveled up the pale perfection of her throat, bared to him by her hair swept up into a french twist at the back of her head, her face framed by a long curl or two which had escaped her coiffure.

Lachlan shook himself back to reality as he met her beseeching stare. "Bel- Miss French," he murmured, clearing his throat to mask his near slip. "What can I do for you?"

Her teeth grazed over her bottom lip in that distracting manner of hers as she continued to meet his eyes, but there was something lurking within that gave him pause. Was it nervousness? Fear? Trepidation? Those were emotions he'd never seen on her before. "You've been avoiding me. I figured I would have to wait on line to see you – just like everyone else – if I wanted a chance."

"A chance at what?" he asked, watched her cautiously from beneath his lashes as she approached his desk and perched herself upon the mahogany surface next to his left elbow. He sat back in the chair, trying to appear aloof and calm when his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest at her close proximity. "What is it you want, Miss French? Power and prestige … money? Is there someone you need _removed_ from your life? An ex-boyfriend perhaps?"

Lachlan cursed inwardly as her lips quirked up into a knowing smile. He sounded like a jealous ass, fishing to know how many lovers she'd had in the nine years she'd been absent from his life "No … nothing like that. Rather I have a story to share with you. Then I will tell you what I want if you're still amenable."

He made a small flourish of his hand, gesturing for her to continue. "By all means, dearie, do tell," he encouraged her.

She blushed prettily and took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't be able to see her rapidly beating pulse beneath her jaw. "A long time ago, I fell in love," she began, taking note of the way he tensed beneath her steady gaze. "Unfortunately, he treated me as if I were a little girl. Instead of loving me in return, and he became my dearest friend." She shrugged, a bittersweet smile curling her lips. "I had to let him go when I went off to college, always wondering what it would have been like if he'd returned my feelings."

Lachlan swallowed convulsively, feeling the jealousy make his gut churn. "Did you tell him?" he asked, wondering what kind of fool would reject her. He tried to do a mental inventory of all the boys she might have been interested in before she'd left for college, only to come up empty.

"Why would I when I believed he didn't love me? No," she shook her head, her hands fidgeting in the folds of her skirt. "I never told him. I buried myself in my studies and tried in vain to forget him."

He looked away from her, unable to bear the sadness he could see so clearly in her cerulean eyes. Her pain was his own and he clenched his teeth in anger at the man who'd hurt her so badly. "Is that why you didn't come back?"

"I couldn't … not at first. I knew how painful it would be to see him. I still loved him, and I wasn't prepared to have him treat me like a little girl any longer. So I got my degree and decided to see a bit of the world before I came home to confront my past. I was a coward, but no matter how far I ran, I couldn't escape the fact that he held my heart."

Lachlan shot to his feet, his anger getting the better of him as a single tear escaped the corner of her eye. "Who is he?! Tell me who he is and I'll –"

Belle hopped off the desk and covered his lips with her fingertips, shushing him. It was now or never … the one chance she'd been running from for more years than she cared to count. "It was you, Lachlan. I love _you_ … I always have," she whispered, searching his gaze. "I was so determined to tell you and then last night you acted as if you couldn't get away from me quickly enough."

"Belle …" Her name slipped from his lips with all the reverence of a prayer, but she wasn't finished.

"No, I want … no _need_ … to say this." Her hands drifted down to his chest, her fingers curling into the fine lapels of his tuxedo jacket. "I love you, Lachlan. I understand if you still think of me as Neal's friend or as a silly little girl who doesn't know what she wants, but I can't help the way I feel and I needed you to know."

Lachlan felt as if he were dreaming. She'd loved him all this time and he'd never seen it. He was ten kinds of fool, he thought as he stared down into her tear filled gaze. How could he have not noticed the longing in her eyes when she looked at him, felt it in her touch when their hands brushed over tea, heard it in her voice when she said his name? He had so much to say to her, so many things he needed to tell her, but the moment he opened his mouth, he stuck his foot in it. "And what is the request you wished to ask of me?"

Belle sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes narrowing on the man she loved. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" It didn't help that he looked as though he were scared to death, but she wouldn't back down.

"When have I ever?" he offered lamely, his sable eyes wide as she inched closer, her hands sliding up his chest to twine around his shoulders.

She dug deep for the remainder of her flagging courage. "I want you, Lachlan. I want to know what it's like to be loved by you, even if it is for only one night." She laughed, a bitter sound that went straight to his heart. "An offer you can't refuse, surely."

Lachlan pulled her roughly against his chest as his arms wrapped tightly about her waist. "No, I most certainly _can_ refuse," he assured her, his voice barely more than a whisper as his head lowered to press his brow to hers.

Belle bit her lip, her eyes closing against the pain of his rejection as she made to step away from him. "I see," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. She was a fool to have told him.

He refused to let her go, gently tilting her chin up so she'd be forced to meet his gaze. "No, darling, I don't think you do," he murmured gently as he brushed a curl behind her ear. "I would never settle for merely one night with you, Belle.

Her eyes widened with incredulity. "W-What are you saying?"

His thumbs drew circles over her hipbones through the thick fabric of her skirt as he huffed a bitter laugh. "I'm saying I love you too. I have since you breezed into my house trailing after my son and Emma and let me know in no uncertain terms that you were here to stay whether I liked it or not. I fell in love with you as we discussed books, over games of Scrabble that you coerced us all into, over burgers at Granny's when you insisted I tag along." He reached up to brush away the tears streaming over her pale cheeks. "I never thought you could love me too. I'm not a good man, Belle. You deserve more … so much more."

Belle leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a feather-light kiss. "You're all I've ever wanted, Lachlan. I felt as if a part of me died when I had to say goodbye. I don't want to feel that way anymore."

Lachlan buried his face against the crook of her neck and took a deep shuddering breath as she pulled him closer. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in an agonized whisper, his heart clenching as he realized how much time they'd lost because they were too afraid to admit their feelings for one another.

She carded her fingers through his soft tawny hair and held him closer. "I was afraid. And really … would you have let me stay with you when you seemed so proud to see all of us going off to uni?"

He lifted his head to meet her questioning stare with a wry smirk. "No, I don't suppose I would have. You needed to go off and find yourself … but, gods, I missed you, Belle."

She cradled his face in her warm hands. "Tell me what you want, Lachlan. Do you want me to stay?" she whispered against his lips.

"Yes!" he breathed, delving his hand into her long unbound tresses to cup the back of her head. "Forever."

A little whimper escaped her lips and something that sounded suspiciously like 'finally' as his mouth slanted over hers, but it was his last coherent thought. His body was flooded with heat as her tongue pushed its way into his mouth to glide over his. It was too good to be true … he had to be dreaming, he mused as her nimble little fingers worked the tie loose from his collar. Her tongue flicked over the roof of his mouth and his hands tightened about her waist as a surge of white hot lust gripped him.

Lachlan dragged his mouth away from hers, breathing heavily as he tried to control the myriad sensations coursing through his body. "Belle … Belle, love, are you sure? What if later you decide I'm not what you want? What if –" He closed his eyes, needing to block out the sight of her kiss swollen lips and passion glazed eyes in order to think straight. "People won't understand how you could possibly be with me, and they'll shun you. I don't want -"

Her touch was gentle as she brushed the hair away from his eyes, but her voice was firm. "Lachlan, open your eyes and look at me," she commanded, soothing her fingers over the curve of his face from temple to jaw. "Please … look at me." Finally he opened his eyes and she could see a wealth of pain within the sable orbs, pain on her behalf. "I will not change my mind. You hold my heart and I don't give a fig for what others think. My true friends will always be there for me. I only care for what _you_ want, for what _I_ want."

He leaned into her touch and dropped a lingering kiss to the sensitive flesh of her wrist. "I don't want you to suffer because of your association with me, Belle."

Belle took advantage of his distraction and pushed his tuxedo jacket off his shoulders to land with a thump on the floor before tackling the buttons on his shirt. Her lips trailed over the pulse point just beneath his jaw and he shivered, causing her to smile against his skin. "Do you want me?" she asked, her voice unadulterated seduction.

"Well, I'm not in the habit of letting pretty girls undress me in my study, dearest," he snarked, catching her hands before she could move on to the next button.

She shook off his light grip and continued with the buttons as her lips moved over his neck, pausing to nip and suckle on her way to his ear. "Were you being honest when you said you loved me? That you really want to be with me?"

He nodded fervently as her lips closed over his earlobe and suckled, her hot little tongue wreaking havoc on his control. "Yes! I _do_ want you, Belle. I've never loved anyone like I love you."

Her nails scratched pleasantly over his chest as they dipped beneath his shirt. "That's all that matters, then, Lachlan."

"But –"

She grabbed his lapels in both hands and he stumbled into her, pressing her back against the desk, her eyes flashing hotly. "Would you please stop with the _what ifs_? I will not allow our happiness to fall to the wayside because you're worried about what the small-minded people of this town think about our relationship!" she hissed. "Now take me upstairs and let me love you! I think we've wasted enough time, don't you?"

Lachlan moaned as his hips pressed into hers and he found he didn't have the will to deny her. All he'd ever wanted was to have Belle in his life, his home … his bed, and now it seemed as if his impossible dreams were coming true. "Aye, love," he said, scooping her up into his arms and making his way to the door. "Catch that, would you?" he asked, the words muffled against her neck as his tongue snaked out to taste her.

He nearly collided with Jefferson and Ruby as Belle pulled the door open and they stumbled into the room. They regained their balance and glanced at him guiltily, Ruby blushing scarlet and a satisfied smirk adorning Jefferson's face. Lachlan glared at them as Belle emitted a delightful giggle. "Were you two listening at the door?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No!" Ruby said, not quite able to meet his eyes.

Jefferson, however, shoved his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels. "Of course," he answered at the same time, contradicting her. He couldn't bite back a chuckle at his friend's state of dishevelment.

Belle, unperturbed by being caught by her friends, buried her face in his hair, her lips tracing softly against the shell of his ear. "Lachlan," she whispered, tightening her grip about his shoulders.

He shivered as his name fell from her lips, unable to mistake the urgent plea in her tone. He pushed past their grinning friends and made haste towards the stairs. He vaguely registered the smacking of palms as Jefferson high-fived Ruby and demanded she pay up. Surely, Belle would know what that was all about and he mentally reminded himself to ask her about it … later.

She reached for the door handle once more as he stopped before a set of mahogany doors. She' always wondered what his bedroom would look like. It had featured in more than one of her fantasies over the years when she'd allowed herself to think of him. Her musings, however, had been sorely lacking. She couldn't help but find herself a bit distracted as he set her on her feet and pulled her against his chest, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder as his hands splayed out over her silk covered belly.

A single lamp burned on an end table in a small sitting area next to the cold hearth, the furniture overstuffed leather. She could see them curled up there in the evening wrapped around one another after a long day and warmth for the man she adored filled her. The hardwood floor was covered by rich Persian rugs and the dresser and nightstands were of a deep dark cherry wood. It suited him, she thought with a smile. A door off to the left was open, giving her a glimpse of the richly appointed en suite bathroom and a door to the right, she assumed, led to a closet. She could just imagine his elegant suits hanging there. The open balcony doors let in the noise of revelry in the gardens below and she slipped out of his arms momentarily to close them, her eyes straying to the immense four poster bed that dominated the room.

Lachlan watched her avidly, his feet rooted to the spot, unable to believe his Belle was actually in his bedroom where he'd imagined her for so long. He groaned as she turned and caught sight of the framed pictures scattered over the surface of the dresser. She tilted her head curiously, biting her lip as she moved over to it to investigate. Her fingers trailed over the frames, a smile blooming on her lips as her own face stared back at her. Snapshots bearing her, Neal and Emma, some taken with his phone, others with a camera, but all featuring the three of them. She lifted the one on the very end, the one turned to face his bed … the one of her by herself. It had been taken the day he'd gone with them to NYU for orientation and to get them settled in the dorm. Her eyes had been filled with so much love, so much sadness, and the memory of having to say goodbye to him made her eyes well with tears.

"Oh, Lachlan …" she murmured, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.

His arms slipped about her waist, holding her tightly. "Don't cry, love, please."

She placed the frame back on the dresser and turned her face up to him, her lips brushing over his lightly stubbled jaw. "If I had known … I never would have stayed away so long."

He dropped a kiss to her temple. "And had I known you loved me, I would have come for you."

"We wasted so much time," she lamented, turning in his arms and pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. She turned her watery gaze on him, hope in her eyes. "Please tell me this is real, that I'm not dreaming again."

Lachlan squeezed her hips a little more roughly than necessary as he pulled her body flush with his, groaning as she came in contact with his burgeoning erection. His eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at her. "Does this feel like a dream, my darling Belle?" he asked, nuzzling his nose against hers as he waited for her answer.

Belle gave a slight shake of her head. "No, it's better … so much better."

She leaned into his touch, seeking his warmth as his hand came to rest over her tear-streaked cheek, her own hand rising to cover his. His gaze was dark and filled with need, pulling her into him as his lips brushed over hers. His tongue glided over her lower lip in askance and she opened for him without hesitation, granting him entrance to the sweet honeyed cavern within. She whimpered softly, so overwhelmed with emotion her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. She'd waited so long for him and now that she was finally in his arms she was nearly overcome.

Lachlan kept one arm firmly about her waist, reaching up with his other hand to free her hair from its pins. His loving gaze was filled with admiration as he spread the long burnished waves about her creamy shoulders. "Beautiful," he whispered reverently. "My beautiful Belle."

Belle turned in his arms, giving him her back in a silent plea to free her from the confines of her dress. She looked back at him over her shoulder and shivered as his deft fingers began to work the long row of silk-covered buttons. He groaned softly as the dress pooled about her feet, leaving her in only her heels, stockings, garters and the most scandalous pair of lacy blue knickers he'd ever seen. Her arms rose to cover her breasts, a rosy blush staining her cheeks. She'd forgotten about the bra sewn into the bodice of the dress and she was feeling too exposed, too raw and vulnerable even though her back was turned to him.

Lachlan covered her hands with his, pulling them away as he tutted softly against the shell of her ear. "Don't be shy with me, my Belle," he whispered, turning her to face the mirror on the dresser. "Look how beautiful you are."

Belle trembled in his arms, allowing him to clasp her hands and draw them away to rest at her sides. His fingertips were feather light against her skin as they danced over her belly, slowly moving upwards over her ribs, his thumbs gently caressing the undersides of her breasts. She arched back against his chest as his lips trailed over her shoulder and along the smooth column of her throat. She gasped as her eyes met his in the mirror, his pupils blown wide with unadulterated need, framed by a thin ring of sable brown. His hair was tousled from her roving fingers, his lips swollen from her kisses and to her he'd never been more desirable. She'd never loved him more than in that moment.

His hands, calloused from the labor of his youth, cupped her breasts, his long talented fingers rolling her rosy nipples with expert care, sending a jolt of fiery pleasure straight to her core. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling wetness pool and drench the lace covering her sex. She keened with want as his teeth scraped over the nape of her neck, and her nails dug sharply into his thighs through his tuxedo pants. He emitted a sound somewhere between a hiss and a chuckle, but in no way did it deter him from his quest to discover every one of her hidden delights.

His brogue was thick, sending another wave of desire spiraling through her. "I'll not be ending this soon, dearest … not when I've waited what seems like a lifetime to have you." His gaze caught hers once more in the mirror as his right hand skimmed over her belly, lazily drawing circles over her alabaster skin before tracing the line of her garter belt. "Do you want me to touch you, precious love?"

She was too overcome to do naught but nod before tucking her face against his neck, her lips parted as she panted feverishly. He released her breast to tilt her chin up, his lips teasing at the corner of her mouth. "Don't hide from me, Belle." His impassioned plea had her turning her eyes back to the mirror to watch as his hand dipped down to the apex of her thighs. "Watch, my love … watch and know that you're finally _home_ , that it's _me_ you're with, _me_ who is bringing you pleasure."

Belle sagged against him weakly, one hand gripping his cloth covered thigh, the other twisted in the sleeve of his shirt as his clever fingers disappeared beneath the scrap of blue lace. Those expert fingers which wielded a pen mightier than the sharpest sword – which drew up contract after contract to bend men and women alike to his will – now caressed her folds with their intimate touch. She bucked against his hand, her breathing ragged as desire surged through her like lightening. Even her wildest imaginings – and there had been many over the years – had failed to prepare her for the blinding pleasure of this reality.

The hand not currently busy teasing her clit, wrapped around the silken strands of her hair and pulled her head back against his shoulder, granting him access to her ivory throat. His teeth nipped at her skin as they sank into her neck just beneath her ear, and she shuddered, trembling as she relinquished her control into his capable hands. His hips molded to hers, his aching cock pressed firmly into the cleft of her backside. He owned her heart, and it was all the more precious because she owned his just as much. They were two halves of the same whole, two lost souls having found their match, finally brought together after years of separation to find a happiness they could only find with one another.

"Lachlan, please!" she cried as he crooked his fingers deep inside her. The sight of herself in the mirror was nearly unrecognizable. Her skin was flushed a deep rose as she panted with need, her hands gripping tightly to him as she watched him leave his mark near her collarbone, his fingers pumping into her heated center. The heat he created within scorched her, threatening to consume her until she was ash in his clever hands. The hand at her breast moved to grip her waist as his thumb applied direct pressure to her clit and she broke apart with a muffled scream, white starbursts appearing behind her closed lids.

He held her tightly against his chest for a moment, giving her time to recover before he lifted her in his arms and bore her to the bed. He sucked in a sharp breath as he laid her on the duvet and stood back to take her in. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen … he'd always thought so, but now looking at her flushed from the pleasure _he'd_ given her … she took his breath away. Her skin flushed, the marks from his lips and the stubble on his chin leaving bright red patches, her hair spread out like a halo about her head, and her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, it all combined to leave him hard and aching.

Belle sat up, reaching for him, pushing his wrinkled shirt off his shoulders and stroking her hands over his arms, pulling him over her as she sought skin to skin contact. He moaned low in his throat as her breasts pressed delightfully against his chest. Her teasing fingers ghosted over his sides and across his stomach, the muscles there contracting under her touch as she reached for his belt, making quick work of the buckle and tossing it aside to tackle the fastenings of his trousers.

Lachlan caught her hands in his, bringing them to his lips to kiss each of her fingers. He chuckled softly as she groaned in frustration. "Patience, precious girl."

She arched a brow as she shook off his grasp and cupped him through his pants. It was then his turn to groan, his brow falling to rest against the crook of her neck. "I'm out of patience, Lachlan. I've waited too long to have you. I love you," she vowed. "I want you."

"I love you too, my Belle," he whispered, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. He didn't know where he got the strength to draw away from her, his body shaking with the effort not to give in to her demands. He unhooked her garters from her stockings and slid it and her knickers over her hips and off her legs, leaving the stockings where they were. His hands kneaded the muscles of her calves, his fingers tickling behind her knees as he inched upwards towards her creamy thighs. His tongue traced the line of her stocking on her right leg and she jolted, her back arching as her toes curled.

"You … you are such a bloody t-tease, Lachlan Gold!" she moaned brokenly as his nose nuzzled at the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.

"Is this some kind of punishment for staying away so long? I -"

His tongue parting her glistening folds was his only answer. He hummed his pleasure against her center and lapped eagerly at her sweetness as her thighs clamped around his head. His chest swelled with pride, certain her cries could be heard throughout the house. Her fingers delved into his hair, holding him in place, his scalp tingling as she tugged. When he felt her legs quivering with the onset of another climax, he withdrew, his hands reaching to push his trousers down, kicking them aside.

Belle grasped at his shoulders as he finally climbed onto the bed with her to settle between her legs. She gasped against his mouth as his tongue pushed past her lips to stroke her own. She could taste herself on him and it only increased the heat coursing hotly through her veins. She reached down between them, her hand wrapping firmly around his cock, his shaft swollen and turgid, spreading the moisture at his tip with her thumb as she guided him to her entrance.

He cradled her face in his warm palms, sucking gently on her lower lip as he shunted his hips forward. He gasped as he felt her maidenhead tear, his eyes widening with alarm as he broke their kiss to stare down into her watery eyes. "Belle …"

She wrapped her legs about his waist, refusing to allow him to withdraw from her. "Shh, love, it's ok," she panted, breathing through the pain, her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw as she smiled.

"It bloody well is _not_ ok, Belle. Why didn't you tell me?" he fumed. "I wouldn't have taken you like a beast." He peppered her face with the lightest of kisses as he forced himself to remain as still as possible to allow her to adjust to the intrusion. "How …?"

Belle sighed, her fingers toying with the hair at his nape. "You're killing the mood, Lachlan," she breathed in annoyance, but she knew he would deny them both unless she answered his question. "How could I give myself to someone else when it is you I love? I've loved you since I was fifteen years old. I couldn't imagine being so intimate with anyone but you."

"Oh, Belle …" he moaned as she tightened her muscles about his throbbing cock, drawing him deeper into her heat. He studied her carefully, searching for any residual pain she might have been feeling, breathing a relieved sigh upon finding none.

Her heels dug into the small of his back, her stockings causing a delicious friction against his skin as she pulled him down for a feverish kiss. "Please, Lachlan …"

His braced himself on his elbow, wrapping his other arm about her waist as he slowly withdrew and then slid back in. Belle shivered, reveling in the sensation of being filled with him. She kept her gaze locked with his dark ocher eyes as he set a slow pace, urging her up the peak. He was trying so hard to be gentle with her and it made her heart clench at his thoughtfulness, but she didn't want to be treated like a piece of fine porcelain. She wanted his heat. She wanted him to lose control and know it was her who'd caused it.

Her teeth grazed over the sensitive flesh of his lower lip and a low rumble of pleasure sounded deep in his chest, his hips snapping forward more forcefully than before. "Yes! Faster, love. I won't break!"

Lachlan tilted her hips up, changing the angle so he brushed her clit with each thrust, his pace increasing as he felt her clench around his cock. He buried his face against the smooth column of her throat, biting gently just beneath her ear, marking her as his own as she came apart in his arms, screaming her pleasure in his ear. Her nails dug sharply into his back, scoring his flesh, lightening crackling at the base of his spine as he emptied himself into her welcoming sheath, his hips continuing to move to prolong the joy of their completion.

He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him to collapse atop his chest, refusing to let her go even for a second. He'd never let her go now. "Are you alright, my Belle?" he asked, still breathless from their activities.

Belle yawned and snuggled deeper into his embrace. "Mmhm … perfect."

His hands rubbed soothing patterns along the length of her spine beneath the duvet he'd pulled over them to chase away the chill of their cooling bodies. "I need to call Jefferson and Dove to have them collect your things from your apartment," he said hesitantly, testing the waters.

She arched an imperious brow at him, a teasing smile on her lips. "That's mighty presumptuous of you, don't you think?"

He flourished his hand in a nervous gesture, his gaze sliding away furtively. "Well … Belle, please … I can't let you go again," he quailed. "Please stay."

"Of course I will," she said, pressing a lingering kiss to his swollen lips. "All you had to do was ask."

His arms tightened about her, happiness spreading warmth through his chest. "I love you so much, my Belle."

"I love you too," she murmured sleepily. She slid off to his side as he reached for the cell phone on the nightstand which rang insistently. She groaned. "Do you have to answer it?"

He was torn between her pleading gaze and the buzzing phone in his hand. "It might be Neal."

She nodded and he moved the screen where he could see who was calling. The caller was indeed his newly wedded son. He slid his finger over the button for video call on the black iPhone and grinned at his son. "Papa! We're in Boston … just thought we'd call and let you know we made it to the airport. Wait! Are you in bed already? It's only ten o'clock!"

Lachlan blushed. "I … erm …"

Belle slid her arm over his chest and moved closer so she could grin sheepishly at Neal's startled countenance. "Hi, Neal. What time is your flight?"

"Emma! Emma!" he chortled, holding the phone where his new wife could see as well.

Emma groaned. "Oh my god, Belle!" She glared at her father in law. "Well it's about time, you old goat."

"Thanks for that, dearie," Lachlan grumbled with mock irritation as he pressed a kiss to Belle's brow. "Never mind that. I'm glad the two of you made it safely to the airport."

Neal beamed at his father, more than pleased that things had worked out for them. "I'll call you when we layover in Los Angles before our last flight. Have fun, you two." Before he hung up, he couldn't resist teasing. "Night, Papa … night, _mom_."

Belle giggled as Lachlan tossed the phone onto the nightstand and rolled her beneath him, her arms going about his shoulders. He nuzzled his nose against hers, his face aching from the amount of smiling he was doing. "I suppose I'll have to make an honest woman out of you now that my son has claimed you as his mom," he said only half in jest.

"Hmm," she sighed happily. "We can discuss it over breakfast." They could discuss a good many things over pancakes when they finally roused themselves from the comfort of his bed, but one thing was certain … she was there to stay with the man she loved … forever.


End file.
